Description: With the war raging on across the world, El Fuerte starts having some doubts that his country will take the right side in the coming conflict. He decides to go ask his old friend T. Hawk on the current events of Mexico, bringing MURDERHOUSE Mick with him to help if he runs into trouble. As it turns out, it was a very good idea, not for his safety but for others.
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Michoacanos 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
COMBATSYS: ElFuerte has joined the fight here on the right meter side.
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Michoacanos 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
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|=------\-------\0 ElFuerte
The world plunging itself in war signals the end of innocence.
Not even the most carefree souls are left unmarked by the atrocities that have been televised from Asia, so much suffering, so much violence, so much death. It makes anyone wonder about their own mortality, the fear of death sinking its fangs upon their very hearts, only hoping that the war with Shadaloo stays far away from their homeland and their loved ones, and that those that already experienced it didn't suffer much as they passed on.
For some however, this war started a long time ago, and the fear of death was a daily reality they had to witness, only dealt with by ignoring it and pretend that everything was alright. This was El Fuerte's reality, the horrors of war had reached his country way before Vega's grand scheme for world domination was revealed to the world. He needed not turn to the TV to witness the atrocities of war, for him, he just needed to look out a window.
That is why he left. It was why he thought he could just avoid it all and let his country men sort their own petty troubles while he sought enlightenment in the form of wrestling and cooking. But ignored trouble has a way to reach those who avoid it and now El Fuerte finds that he has nowhere left to run, the whole planet suddenly feels very very small with the feeling that he has been cornered. The only thing left for him now; is to fight.
With the news of Vega's war escalating on the other side of the world and quickly heading towards the Western continent, the luchador's thoughts go to think; what part will Mexico take in this grand conflict? It is obvious that the drug cartels are all in Vega's pockets and if the whole South American continent were to convert without warning to Shadaloo, the United States and Canada would soon be conquered.
Thus El Fuerte decides that the very least he can do is investigate. Return to his land to see what his so called countrymen are up to. His plan is simple; Find T. Hawk, he should know what's going on, but how he manages to do that is a whole different enchilada.
That is why he brought with him his ol' pal MURDERHOUSE Mick. Surely two luchadores are better than one when it comes to find an 8 foot tall Native American brave. "Sorry that I dragged you all the way over here Mick. But I did not think you would want to simply sit this one out." Says the Luchador dressed in a stereotypical Mexican poncho as he talks to his companion on the outside of the city of Michoacan. The last spot where T. Hawk was seen.
You ran from it, you ignored it, you fought it, but it didn't change basic facts.
War. War never changes. But it changes you. And Mick personally felt those changes. He was born in violence and bloodshed, and baptised in sniper fire, pipebombs in mailboxes and garbage cans, and the daily threat of everything he knew being ended quickly and brutally. It was in this environment that Mick grew from a boy to a man, and embraced the cynical, fatalistic world around him while at the same time rebelling against it. He shunned guns, and the anarchy that war brought, but swam and breathed in chaos and pain. He held the same disregard for human life as his environment, but refused to so freely take it like his peers.
So, with the current global events, Mick really felt at home, and the feeling left him darker, more somber than usual. Motorhead shirt across his chest, camo pants around his legs, with steel-toed boots and fingerless gloves, classic MURDERHOUSE Mick. It came complete with a black hockey mask, covering his face, but not his eyes which bore into Fuerte unblinkingly. But really, when didn't they?
"Yeah, whatever. Let's just find this asshole and get out of here, it's way too hot down here."
And it was so that El Fuerte truly knew that he and the man MURDERHOUSE Mick were opposite sides of the same coin. When he stared into the unblinking eyes of the other masked wrestler, he saw in them a reflection of his own soul. Like him, Mick was also raised in an environment of brutal violence and death, but while MURDERHOUSE embraced it and drew power from it, Fuerte openly fought against it with all his might, swearing never to become like the men that turned his homeland into a nightmarish war torn horror.
Only time will tell which ideology proves to be superior.
"Si! Let us continue. It should not be too difficult to find my amigo Thunderhawk. Can't miss him, eight feet tall, has feathers on his head, real..peculiar looking." Once again, El Fuerte just ignores all that goes around him and returns to his usual giddy and happy go lucky self, cracking jokes with the somber MURDERHOUSE as they enter downtown Michoacan where he is certain clues of the whereabouts of T. Hawk will be found. "You should have brought a sombrero like I suggested amigo." Giggles the smaller Mexican luchador when Mick complains of the weather, a common complaint amongst foreigners. Breathing in, El Fuerte loves this atmosphere, so warm and cozy, he forgets why he left in the first place.
But not to worry, he soon remembers.
"Uh oh.." As they double a corner, El Fuerte and Mick MURDERHOUSE see a patrol of armed men walking down the street. These are not police or soldiers, but clearly gang bangers, all with shades, wearing flask vests and machine guns strapped to their backs. Armed gangsters. In broad day light. No one is doing anything! They walk around like they own the place, and indeed they might, before waltzing inside a restaurant. "I don't like the looks of this." Says the luchador as nothing steers from within, until a panicked looking man tries to make a run out of the establishment only to receive a shot in the back killing him instantly.
The man collapses on a pool of his own blood, and silence washes the whole plaza. Everyone freezes, staring at the corpse before moving on and away from that place. No cops, no screams, no nothing. Just silence. And death.
El Fuerte stares at the dead man for a few seconds and then up at Mick as if asking 'What do you want to do?'
Yeah, Mick saw it. Mick saw it, and he just rolled his neck, letting it crack, before the black haired man glared down at Fuerte. He was never not intense, in any action he took. But Fuerte, knowing the big man, might recognize the way he almost 'smirked' with his eyes.
"Time for a food break, looks like."
With that, Mick started calmly walking down the street, walking toward the restaurant that those armed goons just stepped in.
...Of course, he casually grabbed at the side of an old trashcan, ripping it from the ground it had been rooted to, letting a few old bottles hit the street and shatter. It appeared Mick wasn't intimidated in the least by armed thugs...
El Fuerte took a deep breath and followed MURDERHOUSE Mick inside as he knew he would. If he had been by himself, El Fuerte wouldn't have gone inside to deal with the gun men. It's not that he was afraid that he couldn't take them. El Fuerte Luchador is scared by no punk mobster with a gun! But MURDERHOUSE has an advantage that Fuerte doesn't have. He's not Mexican! Had El Fuerte tried to intervene in the dealings of the local gangs he would have been hounded none stop until he was captured. Sure, he could take one, two, five, ten, twenty of these goons at the same time, no problem! But fifty? A hundred? Two hundred? Fighting them non stop no matter where he went? With them trashing any restaurant he managed to create in any part of the country, unable to appear in public fights because they would just shot up the arena, and living in constant fear that just one night they'll come while he was asleep to kill him. Eventually...he would have been brought down. These people are relentless. That is why when this is all over he'll just have to leave again.
Once they enter the restaurant, past the dead man laying on the ground, Mick and Fuerte will find the dozen or so thugs placidly seated on their tables being served by a very nervous looking waitress. The rest of the restaurant patrons just staring as hard as they can at their food, praying that the thugs won't shoot them all out of whim, these men are the lords of this town and they know it.
"'Ey, que chingados quieren esos hijos de puta?" One of the thugs looks up to see the two masked wrestlers and starts spouting some gibberish in Spanish. As they begin to rise and reach for their guns, some of the men narrow their eyes to peer at Fuerte and Mick to realize they are Luchadores! At the very least those men draw a certain amount of respect in Mexico, even from gangsters.
"What's up guero?" Their apparent leader. A muscled man in a military vest get up speaks up realizing that the taller of the duo is pale skinned and obviously a foreigner. "You need something?"
Mick just looked down at the obvious foreigner, eyes gleaming maliciously as he looked across over them. If they were fight fans at all they might know his reputation, and know what he was capable of. As people eating tried to ignore the situation that just became a powderkeg. And Mick, well, he always did have a short fuse. One he lighted when he reached over quickly, grabbing a plate of hot steaming food off a gangster's plate, letting it all fall into his lap. And that plate he lifted up, only to bring down, aiming to smash it against the skull of that leader.
"Yeah. I need some exercise."
COMBATSYS: Michoacanos dodges MURDERHOUSE's Small Random Weapon.
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Michoacanos 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> //////////////////////////////]
|=------\-------\0 ElFuerte
The thugs were probably well acquainted with SNF fights and being the gruff men that they are, quite likely watched them religiously. However, this wasn't the ring, or the arena, here in this land they were Gods, they said who lived and who died and even legendary fighters such as MURDERHOUSE and Fuerte had no say in what they did.
"Cabron!!" The thug saw his plate being hurled at his face and quickly jumped out of his chair to move aside, letting the platter with steaming beans hit a thug behind him screaming in pain when his face burned. "You're going to die today, puto!"
"Watch out Mick!" Fuerte yelled at his companion as the gangster, realizing he was a bit too close to reach for guns, donned a knuckle duster as he went for the slug across MURDERHOUSE's masked face!
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE blocks Michoacanos' Strong Punch.
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Michoacanos 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> //////////////////////////////]
|=------\-------\0 ElFuerte
He took a crack across that masked jaw, his head snapping from the blow...and that was about it. He wasn't phased in the slightest by that cheapshot, and immediately grabbed at the back of the goon's shirt collar. If this suceeded, he'd hoist said goon up, high, before dropping him. Mick aimed the thug's face for the bar they were standing near. He wanted to let gravity and hard sturdy wood do the work of demolishing that ugly sneering face.
Really, Mick was being gentle, here...
COMBATSYS: Michoacanos endures MURDERHOUSE's Strong Throw.
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Michoacanos 0/-------/----===|=------\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> //////////////////////////////]
|=------\-------\0 ElFuerte
The gangster's lips turned up into an evil grin when he felt his blow land solidly across the man's mask. It will feel real good to hear the giant of a man tumble back and crash on his back like a fallen tree. Except, that Mick didn't! There was no crash from MURDERHOUSE's falling, only an evil glare from the Garbage Wrestler who then grabbed the foreign ganster by his flask jacket to carry him over his head and drop him, face first, upon the bar shattering his nose and shades.
"Agh!!" He was bleeding now, and his companions were rightly pissed off. "Que chingados estan haciendo!? MATENLOS!" Ordered the man in Spanish as the thugs reached for their sub machine guns and just started spraying fire upon Mick and Fuerte. The rest of the patrons running in terror for their life.
"Get out of the way!!" Yelled Fuerte as he ducked for cover.
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE endures Michoacanos' Curb Stomp.
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Michoacanos 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> //////////////////////////////]
|=------\-------\0 ElFuerte
Mick widened his eyes a bit, seeing the gang unload, and just brought his arm up, to cover his eyes. His right hand went a bit lower, to cover his balls, and let the bullets sting at him, cutting his flesh, and letting a little blood flow...but not nearly enough. When you shoot someone they're dead. When a gang unloads uzis, that means you're fucking dead! Right?
No, that wasn't the case, not with MURDERHOUSE Mick. Somehow, he was beyond the regular rules of humanity, much like many other men and women walking this planet. Though his "style" utilized the use of every kind of tool, it was -him- that made them dangerous. And it was him that -was- dangerous, evidenced when he grabbed at the leader, trying to flip him on his back, and start swinging...a 'big swing' into his men, trying to knock them all down, before flipping him into suplex position, and trying to drive his skull into the wooden floor. Of course, in such a cramped area, that was probably unecessary, but Mick wanted to punish him more than being knocked into chairs and table corners would.
That is, of course, assuming this all worked...
COMBATSYS: Michoacanos successfully hits ElFuerte with Curb Stomp.
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Michoacanos 0/-------/-======|====---\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
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|====---\-------\0 ElFuerte
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE successfully hits Michoacanos with Brutal Throw Chain.
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Michoacanos 1/----===/=======|=====--\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> ///////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 ElFuerte
It was true! Isn't that what happens when people get shot at? Don't they keel over and die? It wasn't rocket surgery! For all intended purposes MURDERHOUSE should be hitting the bucket right about now, what with being riddled with bullets from high caliber machine guns. But much to the surprise of the Michoacanos, the big masked man curled his arms up to protect the squishier portions of his body taking the shots in his limbs and was left unharmed. Why, after seeing that some of the men felt as if they could just drop their guns in shock, their eyes widening like dinner plates behind their shades.
One way to get over their shock was to get their world rocked, as their leader was grabbed by his legs and used as a club to then be slammed against his fellows, most if not all them sent spinning to the side crashing against tables and chairs, spilling food all over themselves.
"AAAAAAAGGGH!!" The ring leader screamed in pain as he was supplexed in the head after being used as a living weapon, only managing to spit out a barrage of cuss words in Spanish when he rolled to his side holding the back of his neck. "MATENLOS! MATENLOS!" He kept yelling over and over to his men. One didn't need to know Spanish to know what he was saying; 'Kill them'
One of the gangsters got up faster than the others to fearlessly bum rush Mick, pulling a knife to stab the garbage wrestler right in the kidneys.
As for Fuerte, despite diving for cover it appeared that he had been shot. Bullet holes clearly seen through his poncho and he removed it to put pressure on the wound.
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE negates Pigsticker from Michoacanos with House of Fire.
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Michoacanos 1/----===/=======|=====--\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> ///////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 ElFuerte
He sneered, fists clenched as he saw one goon jump the bar, and prepare to throw a knife. Mick didn't have time to react much, merely grabbed from his pocket a silver lighter and a can of hairspray, shaking the cannister and launching the closest he'd ever come to launching a 'fireball' at that hurtling metal projectile. The force of it surprisingly stopped the thing dead, let it clatter, even as Mick reached calmly over the counter, grabbing a baseball bat that had been stored 'just in case'. He grinned beneath that black hockey mask, speaking over to Fuerte as he did.
"Hey, tell them what I do to the people I beat. Tell them about the barbwire, and about the one guy who got Tetanus from eating so much. I wanna see if any of 'em are smart enough to stop fighting..."
The fire did more than simply stop the throwing knife sent in Mick's direction. It also caused the gangster that threw it to reel back covering his eyes as his face was singed. The men slowly got up to see their companion fall again on his back holding his face, and looked up to one MURDERHOUSE Mick in disbelief, still unable to comprehend that /one/ /unarmed/ man was giving them a run for their money.
Furte got pulled as an interpreter then and joined in besides Mick pointing to the Michoacanos gang. "Este wey los va a cortar con alambre de puas si no se calman!"
"Vete al carajo!!" One of them yelled back reaching once more for his gun. El Fuerte shrugged helplessly to Mick at the answer "Uh..they said go to hell." Well, an interpreter's job is always to translate everything no matter what it may be.
Then he dived for cover again as one of the men pumped a shotgun to spray both wrestlers full of lead!
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE dodges Michoacanos' Nighty-Night.
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Michoacanos 1/----===/=======|=====--\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> ///////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 ElFuerte
COMBATSYS: ElFuerte dodges Michoacanos' Nighty-Night.
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Michoacanos 1/----===/=======|=====--\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> ///////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 ElFuerte
Mick...actually laughed, dodging and side stepping the pump shotgun, even as he himself strode toward the gunman, fearless.
"You first, ya bunch of cuntboys!"
Eyes glaring at the gentlemen as he brought his foot up, trying to drive the sole and heel of his boot into the face of Captain Shotgun. The goal was to take the goon down, right there, strike hard and fast, and concentrate on the next goon. He still held that baseball bat, waiting for the right time to crack the piece of wood across the mouth of some unlucky bastard...
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE successfully hits Michoacanos with Roundhouse Kick.
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Michoacanos 1/-======/=======|====---\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> ///////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 ElFuerte
"QUE!?" Now you see them, now you don't. The mobster had blasted his spread shot at the two men, only to see them move aside with bluring speed causing him to miss his shot entirely. The man hardly had any time to pump his shotgun again before he was kicked in the chest sending him flying backwards landing on a crumpled him on top of the rest of the men.
It wasn't possible, this couldn't be possible! How could just one man have the nerve to even attack them!? Much less actually make open fools of them by manhandling them in such a manner. It was a desperation attack now as the men threw their guns away feeling as if they were useless and charged both wrestlers to rain fists, kicks and clubber them with improvised weapons with utter rage.
They wouldn't let a foreigner make a fool of them, and yelled probably the only phrase they knew in English. "FUCK YOU!"
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE counters Jailbreak from Michoacanos with Cemetary Gates.
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Michoacanos 1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> ///////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 ElFuerte
COMBATSYS: ElFuerte dodges Michoacanos' Jailbreak.
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Michoacanos 1/------=/=======|====---\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> ///////////////////////// ]
|====---\-------\0 ElFuerte
Mick watched all of them grow what could be mistaken for balls, trying to all bumrush him. He smirked...and dropped the bat, rushing with as much enthusiasm as they put in approaching him...and broke through the group they tried to form, his hand around the throat of one unlucky fool. Mick locked eyes on the idiot for a second, before lifting the thug up one-handed, and almost lazily slamming him to the ground. He spun around to grab another man in the same way before they realized that their attack left out one crucial element(him). Another one got almost a fraction of a Penance Stare before a quick chokeslam, and then another, and another, and still another. This ended with the largest guy there(besides Mick) getting grabbed around the throat, getting the same sliver of a Penance Stare...but he got the short end of the stick, whereas the others got quick, incapacitating chokeslams, this fat bastard got hefted up one hand, before he went crashing down, through the table they had all been sitting at. HARD. Mick was breathing a bit heavy but grinned, glaring at any goons remaining.
"Well, ya useless pieces of trash? Any time you -putas- are ready!"
It was the rare bit of Spanish HE knew, so he decided to share for the rest of the class. He was in a generous mood today, after all...
That was a complete and utter disaster. Never mind that all of them were easily picked up by Mick and slammed repeatedly against the floor, tables, chairs and anything that didn't offer a lot of cushioning. The penance stare was nothing short of devastating against these goons, how many deaths had they caused? How much pain they had brought upon their fellow country men? All those lost lives, those families that will forever grief the lost of a loved one, or several as it was often the case. And all for what? For money? Material things? Was all that really worth damning their soul as they had now?
% Apparently, it did. Because these men showed no regret for their actions...only regret at getting chokeslammed. Their arrogance was what kept them going and slowly the only one left standing began to struggle to get up pulling a machete from his backpack to take a swing at MURDERHOUSE.
Or he would have, had El Fuerte not gotten in the way.
COMBATSYS: ElFuerte successfully hits Michoacanos with Fajitas Buster.
[ < > //////////////////// ]
Michoacanos 1/--=====/=======|====---\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> /////////////////////// ]
|======-\-------\0 ElFuerte
When the thug takes a swing at Mick with his machete, he finds his arms grabbed by a certain luchador who quickly disarms him by twisting his arm and snap the elbow out of the socket before kicking him down. Now with machete in hand, a certain luchador glowers down at the thug holding his broken arm as he raises the blade up.
El Fuerte's eyes, usually so filled with joy and laughter, are now twisted with rage. It's clear what he wants to do to the mobster.
"Time to die, hijo de puta."
Mick had already turned his back on the mobster, so trusting was he that Fuerte was going to handle things, and he was right. But he turned his back to reach over the counter, grabbing a collection of beers, far more than one man should want to drink at one time, and strode over to where Fuerte stood over the disarmed goon. A few bottles actually slipped from his grasp, smashing along the floor, but he didn't care. He merely took one, shoving it into the hand of the smaller masked wrestler, and leaned against a nearby table with two of his own, one set on said table, the other he flicked the bottlecap off with his thumb. (How was he going to drink it wearing that mask?)
He didn't speak for a moment, but after gulping down a few swigs(how?), Mick glared down at the wrestling chef.
"Oh really. So you're gonna put this cunt in the ground, huh? Six feet under?"
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE gains composure.
[ < > ///////////////////////// ]
Michoacanos 1/--=====/=======|===----\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> /////////////////////// ]
|======-\-------\0 ElFuerte
El Fuerte is not a man who doubts himself very often. But one has to admit that there is always a first for everything, and as he stood there, holding that machete over his head glancing menacingly down at the broken mobster just waiting to get his head chopped off, the luchador wondered if what he was doing was truly the right thing.
"Yes.." El Fuerte clenched his teeth. Mick may not be willing to kill anyone, and in any other circumstances neither would El Fuerte. But men like these...he made a very /very/ special exception. "If I don't, he will just kill again! Like the poor hombre laying in a pool of his own blood out there. These men...they are not Mexican, they are not human! I will not let them stain this land any longer."
Big words, but he still didn't move, his fingers tightened across the handle of the machete but he made no movement to swing down. "Why? Are you going to try and talk me out of it Mick?"
Only drank half a bottle before letting it smash along the floor like the other ones that didn't make it. He stalked around, pacing like a caged tiger before leaning against the bar now, keeping direct eye contact with Fuerte the whole time, and adjusting his right elbow pad before speaking. His voice lower now. He didn't make a move to wrestle the machete from Fuerte or anything, but he kept himself ready.
"I don't need to, boyo. You ain't a killer. You ain't a killer like this pile of pigshit-"
Mick emphasized his words by quickly stepping over, stomping across the side of the gangbanger's head, knocking the fool unconscious before he stepped away. To give his friend some room.
"And you ain't gonna be. Put that little knife away. Toss it and let's get out of this dump."
How ironic this scene must be! That the terrifying MURDERHOUSE known for his greatly disturbing tendencies of ultra violence is actually trying to talk El Fuerte, a man who is by all accounts a harmless goofball, from killing someone.
As expected, Mick doesn't mince with words and gets right to the point. That El Luchador doesn't have what it takes to kill someone, not like this, not in cold blood. These men might wake up again to lead their life of crime, but they would do so knowing that El Fuerte and MURDERHOUSE are out there to stop them. And in a way, that is enough for Fuerte. If they will never stop hounding him, the he too shall never cease fighting their wicked ways.
El Fuerte lowers the machete when Mick walks over to him and stomps the lights out of the fallen gangbanger, sheathing on his sash belt he wears just as a souvenir. There's no sense dwelling on it anymore as there were other tasks at hands. "We have to move quick." Said he "Others will be coming soon no doubt, it's best we make ourselves scarce."
As they start moving out of the restaurant a thought strikes El Fuerte giving his companion a questioning look "'Ey Mick, can you teach me how to stop bullets with your arms too?"
COMBATSYS: Michoacanos takes no action.
> ///////////////////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> /////////////////////// ]
|======-\-------\0 ElFuerte
COMBATSYS: Michoacanos can no longer fight.
> ///////////////////////// ]
|===----\-------\0 MURDERHOUSE
> /////////////////////// ]
|======-\-------\0 ElFuerte
COMBATSYS: MURDERHOUSE has left the fight here.
> /////////////////////// ]
|======-\-------\0 ElFuerte
COMBATSYS: ElFuerte has ended the fight here.
Log created on 18:55:09 02/18/2012 by ElFuerte, and last modified on 23:46:53 02/18/2012.